


Hold

by Manna



Series: The 7K Series [2]
Category: Blake's 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manna/pseuds/Manna





	Hold

The first few hours were the worst, as the battle still hung in the balance.

Blake was grateful for the sophistication of Liberator's life capsules. He searched through the transmission frequencies, tracking battle reports, the piecemeal arrival of the Federation fleet and others, trying to count losses and victories. When it came down to it, the Federation wasn't a bad fighting machine. Right now, Blake was glad.

Eventually the reports started to thin out. They had won. Just. Heavy losses for the Federation, total defeat for the invaders. And Star One was gone. A Pyrrhic victory which suited Blake very well indeed.

Blake retuned the scanner and began to hunt through the distress call frequencies. The chances of picking out any of the others wasn't good, but he had to try. Most of the beacons were automated, and they weren't too bad. Repeated ID codes which occasionally cut off mid-signal. It was possible to imagine they had landed safely, or docked with another ship.

Far worse were the voice transmissions. They filled the narrow distress frequencies, crowding each other out. Injured men, damaged capsules, the long screams of re-entry burn-ups. One voice came through so loud and clear that Blake felt sure that if there had been a porthole he would be able to see the other capsule.

"Please. If anyone can hear me. This is Major Farrel of the fourth fleet. Please. I have a critical life support failure. I am losing oxygen. Repeat. Life support failure. Please. Please. If there's anyone. Please."

Blake's own life capsule flew on, already locked onto a planet. Eventually the Major's voice grew fainter, from distance or more probably hypoxia. Another transmission drowned him out. After a while, Blake went back to the battle reports.

The Federation were finished. They had to be. Star One and Space Command were their strengths. Now Blake had to get to Earth as quickly as possible. He wondered whether Liberator had survived, whether his crew—Avon's crew—were back on board yet. Actually, he wondered if Avon had got off at all. The others probably had to drag him away bodily. A record-setting short command.

Of course, even if Liberator _had_ survived, that was no guarantee of a quick passage back to Earth. They would have to come and pick him up. Avon had made it part of the deal, but under the circumstances Blake set the chances of him sticking to it at rather less than fifty-fifty. A little higher if Jenna or Cally were on Liberator with Avon, but not much.

Blake wasn't above an untruth or two himself, but he liked other people to be honest. It made it easier to get things done. Avon's rampant self-deception and inconsistency baffled and frustrated him. The man was impossible. Couldn't lead, wouldn't follow. Or maybe it was the other way round.

Except, of course, it was more complicated than that.

Looking back, the clues to Avon's feelings towards him had been so clear that Blake felt a twinge of embarrassment at having missed them for so long. To be fair, it was all of a part with Avon's maddening ability to say one thing and do something utterly at odds, without the slightest acknowledgment of the glaring contradiction. Blake normally tried to judge by actions not words, but Avon's relentless venom had blinded him.

A friend of Blake's had owned an antique drawing of an odd, anthropomorphic blue rabbit. It stood in a pose of total astonishment with an old-style incandescent light bulb flashing into life above its head. Blake's own light bulb moment occurred on the flight deck of the Liberator only a couple of days ago.

'I want to be free of _him_.'

Blake almost heard a 'click' as understanding dawned. Somehow, Blake managed to say the exact opposite of what he thought.

'I never realized. You really do hate me, don't you?'

No reply, naturally.

After his outburst Avon stalked off to his seat and started the detector scans. Blake felt slightly touched that Avon hadn't bothered to participate in the rest of the argument. He obviously believed Blake's agreement would bind the others, in the end.

Later, as they flew through sector nine, Blake had considered going to Avon's cabin, to say something. But he simply couldn't think of anything.

'Thanks, I'm flattered, (but I'm not interested)?'

'You could've told me (not that I wanted to know)?'

'It's nothing personal, I'm just not that way inclined?'

Nothing Avon wanted to hear. Far, far better, he'd decided, just to forget about it and concentrate on Star One.

Maybe afterwards.

It was only when Avon had been alone with him in the medical unit that Blake realised Avon knew that he knew. It was written on Avon's expressionless face, evident in every touch of his absolutely impersonal hands working on Blake's shoulder. Blake tried to sit up a little.

"Avon."

"Don't, Blake. You'll only make it worse."

How could he pull double meanings out of the air with such ease and never let the slightest hint show in his face?

All right, if Avon didn't want him to, he wouldn't. Anyway, there was—as always—something more important. "I need you to do something."

"Don't you always?" Reflexive bark, with no bite behind it. "Don't worry. We'll hold them until the Federation gets here."

Blake stared. He'd been prepared for a fight which had, impossibly, not happened.

A flicker of irritation broke through Avon's careful calm. "I said, we'll hold them. I promise."

Blake just nodded and lay back. Avon finished applying the dressing, did a little unnecessary tidying, and left without another word. Blake stared at the ceiling and wondered why. It only took a minute before the answer came to him.

This would even everything out. This would settle the debts. One final, grand, mad gesture and Avon could consider himself free.

For a few seconds, Blake really thought about letting it stand. But in the end there was too much at stake to just let Avon and the Liberator go completely. It was maybe a little too close to the Federation's way of thinking. But there was a reason the Federation had ruled so much, for so long. Their way of thinking worked. All Blake really wanted to do was return to the status quo, keep his newly discovered edge. His hold. He had to know that if he really needed Avon, Avon would be there.

'For what it is worth, I have always trusted you, from the very beginning.'

One sentence. Sitting in the life capsule, listening to the Federation's death-throes, Blake hoped that it would be enough.


End file.
